Hide & Seek
by OhSnapItzCari
Summary: Trapped and injured in some basement Lydia struggles to keep Stiles grounded and sane as she attempts to help him after being shot by one their captors. "He felt his body throb violently as he struggled to stay still, but desperately wanting to shake the pain away. He heard Lydia's attempts to calm him down. Her hands soaked in slippery blood. His blood." (Stydia)
1. Hide & Seek

**Hide & Seek**

_Where are we?_

_What the hell, is going on?_

_Dust has only just begun to fall_

_Crop circles in the carpet_

_Sinkin'_

_Feelin'_

"It's going to be okay, it's gonna to be okay!" Lydia panted heavily trying to get a clear view of the blow that just hit Stiles. She was failing, she could feel it.

_Stop crying._She yelled to herself. The tears were distracting her from helping Stiles; they were blurring her vision, stinging her cheeks raw.

Stiles lay on the floor, struggling not to scream though he wanted to badly. The hit spread through his body like a shock wave, he didn't have much of a warning to absorb it. He stared up at Lydia hovering above him, desperately trying to help him. He could feel everything in his body expand and explode in utter pain.

At that point, he didn't even know where he was hit. He just knew it was bad, and that was all he could process through his mind in those moments.

His vision danced across his eyes violently, he tried to blink and squint to make it go away, but that only made it worse. He could barely see the panicked girl above him, and if it weren't for her long strawberry blond curls dropping in front of his face, Stiles would have no idea who she would be.

Just because his vision began failing didn't mean the rest of his senses gave out as well. In fact if anything, they heightened.

_It can't end like this. It can't end like this. Not now, not in front of her._

He felt his body throb violently as he struggled to stay still, he desperately wanted to shake the pain away like he usually would, but he could—if he moved it'll only be worse. He heard Lydia's attempts to calm him down, as she pressed her hands against the wound, hoping if she does that the pressure would keep him from bleeding out. Her hands soaked in slippery blood.

His _blood._

His body started shaking terribly, as his panting became strained. _No, no._Lydia quickly realized that his was a sign that his body was in shock from the violent impact.

"Stiles please!" She yelled through a thick sob. "You have to stay calm, y-you ha-have to." She pleaded not knowing what to do, but attempt to keep him calm. She couldn't believe her eyes; she couldn't believe this was happening. Another shriek erupted out her throat, her wails were only getting worse. She honestly didn't even know where they came from. It was just a habit, the screams were uncontrollable.

Her hands began shaking uncontrollably. She tried to stop it, tried to grasp reality and force herself to keep going, to keep helping him. She wanted to stop so desperate that her mind couldn't process it. Strands of her hair fell in front of her face, blocking her view. She let out a furious cry and pushed them back, the blood from his wound staining her face and hair.

They were alone, no one would come to help them there, enclosed in that small moldy basement.

Stiles turned his eyes to face he girl he loved most in this world and refused to drop her gaze. She met his eyes and tried herself to calm down. _Breathe Lydia, just breathe._

She had to be calm and collected through this, if she wasn't, it would only alarm Stiles and make him lose it. But it was hard, it was so damn hard to relax and absorb all this. Her body just refused to do it. She was at the point of breaking.

"Stiles, please." She whispered, her stomach made a nasty turn as she watched him helplessly. But he had no control of his body anymore, there wasn't much he could do but lay there, and pray to god the pain stop soon. The world felt like it fading away slowly. He could made out the outline of her body but his eyes refused to focus.

"L-Ly-Lydia." He struggled out between breathes, he was panicking, he couldn't get a clear picture of her face. The strawberry blond headed girl sniffed and spoke through her sobs.

"Yes?" Her voice was so faint, so soft, that it broke.

He tried to continue, he tried to make words with his lips but nothing came out. Instead a violent cough took him over and before he knew it he had rolled over and coughed out a thick, warm, slippery substance from his mouth.

_Oh god._

Lydia gasped in horror as she turned him back on his back. She took her hand from his abdomen and used her thumb to whip the blood from his mouth.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, for some reason his vision was coming back to him and he no longer felt like her was talking into thin air. "I-I'm d-dy-dying." He choked out accepting the truth. But Lydia refused to listen to what he was saying and shook her head repeatedly. "No, no Stiles, you are not dying, not today, not on me." She reassured sternly.

"Do you hear me?" She continued begging for some type of reply. Stiles nodded slightly though he disagreed. He didn't want to upset her any more than she already was.

"H-hol-hold m-my ha-nd." He said basically forcing the sentence out of his throat. He was having a hard time holding onto reality at that point. Though his vision wasn't blurrily anymore, he still felt like he was slowly fading, drifting further and further from reality.

Lydia immediately shook her head. "No, no, I am not holding your hand because you are _not_ dying today." She said stubbornly, the tears we're now drying on her face.

Stiles looked up at her in defeat, and with whatever strength he had left in that moment, he extended his hand outward by a few inches. It took a lot out of him but he didn't want to be alone. Not now, not in his time of dying.

"They're going to find us Stiles, Scott, Derek, Alison—they're going to find, jus-just hold on! Okay? Please, just _hold on_." She said her voice breaking at the end of the sentence. She knew it was a long shot that they were actually going to be found anytime time soon, but she had to believe, it was her only hope. It was _their_ only hope. Stiles didn't seem to mind her optimistically. He could tell she was trying hard to convince herself that this wasn't happening; that this wasn't real.

"K-kay." Escaped his lips in a painful defeat ad he let his eyes rest for a moment.

If Stiles didn't know better, he would've thought his body was on fire. It felt like flames were burning through his limbs, tearing apart his flesh bit by bit. Fire danced through his veins, smoke trapped in his lungs.

His back was wet—or, it felt wet. It only took him a minute to realize that it wasn't water, or his own sweat from the strain of all the pain; it was blood, forming a puddle around his body from the open wound just above his abdomen. It was too much blood, no wonder he felt like he was so… drained; both mentally and physically.

He could hear Lydia's sobs, and his heart suddenly felt like it weighted a hundred pounds. _Please, please, stop crying._He thought. He didn't want the last thing heard to be Lydia's heart-wrenching cries. If he could had the choice to choose the last thing he'd ever hear, it would be her voice—not her cries.

But Stiles couldn't bring his lips to form any more words, to tell her to stop; his strength was simply gone. His eyelids felt heavy and they uncontrollably began to close. He was having a hard time staying awake, staying alert. The world was drifting further away now, and he hadn't realized it.

Lydia noticed this and quickly cupped her free hand around his face, staining his cheek with his own blood from her hands. Trying to keep him grounded. "Stiles stay awake! Please—oh god!" Another sob escaped her lips; she knew that if she continued on like this she would have no more fight left in her.

"Stiles you gotta stay awake—Stiles, please!" She urged, gently shaking his head. Stiles nodded softly and forced his eyes to stay open, though now they were halfway closed. He could still see her face clearly, which he was grateful of. He didn't want to take his eyes off her, but it was hard to keep them open.

"Stay awake, I kn-know it's hard—b-but pl-e-ase." She spoke through a sob. He just look up at her, half-heartedly, the ends of his lips, surprisingly, went slightly went up.

_She's so beautiful when she cries._

A strike of pain flashed through his chest, making it harder for him to breath. He groaned in agonizing pain, Lydia immediately let her hand fall from his face, and used it to in attempt to keep him still.

Stiles began to wonder if this was how his mother felt as she was dying: a constant struggle to grasp reality and pain.

He wondered if this is how she felt in her last moments on earth. _At least we both had someone we love to tie us back to reality, or it would be much harder to stay lucid; to stay sane._He thought upon meeting Lydia in the eyes once more.

He struggled to swallow as he tried to form another set of words. "Ho-ld m-my h-and." He pleaded once more to the girl.

Tears were now falling down the sides of his face as it dawned on him that this is the end. He was running out of time, and with each second that passed, he was reminded it was a second he would never get back.

"Y-you are not, d-dying Stiles!" Lydia shot down at him stubbornly, she refused to believe it.

"P-please." He exhaled in exhaustion. He didn't know how much he could take anymore. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

The sides of his body began to numb to the pain. He knew that wasn't a good sign. He swallowed again and tightened his eyes in pain as another strike of pain struck him across the chest. His breathing became noticeably labored.

"I-I do-n wa-hn to d-die a-lone." His words were slurred, a desperate last attempt to _speak_ to Lydia. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he began to panic. The pain was fading, it though it was a relive, he took it as a sign that the end was close, too close.

_I'm going to die, I'm going to die._

More tears fell down the sides of his mentally exhausted face, followed by drops of sweat from his forehead. He couldn't take this much longer.

_Oh god—I'm dying._

A sob escaped Lydia as she let go of pressing on the wound and grabbed his hand, bringing it up and placing it on his chest. She tightened her eyes in desperation and dread, forcing more tears out. "Pl-ple-e-a-se." She begged, leaning forward and pressing her lips on his clammy hand. Her shaking sobs went through him; and _that_, he could feel.

Stiles exhaled sharply in relief, but in a moment, heaved, trying to catch his breath, but he felt like it was slowly slipping from him with every second.

He thought of his dad, how he would react, how he would feel, what he would have to go through again, and another sob escaped his lips in pain. He wanted to fight, he wanted to endure this hell a little longer so that maybe there was a chance they could be rescued.

But he was slowly slipping away, he was drowning in a room full of air. Then he remembered what that strange counselor had once said.

_If you're going through hell, keep going._

He didn't realized how difficult it was to _keep going_when he first heard those words.

He had to keep going, he had to keep fighting. He found this strange confidence of strength for a moment. But it was shortly lived, after a few minutes he couldn't feel his upper body, only the meer outlines of his hands and fingers.

Everything else just simply relaxed, his body stopped shaking and the pain was gone.

The pain was _gone_.

Lydia leaned back and exhaled sharply through a small hiccup. If it weren't for the situation, Stiles would tease her about it.

"C-can't feel a-anything." He said faintly to Lydia, he wanted to prepare her.

Her stomach made a nasty turn and her face scrunched up letting more tears fall. She sniffed sharply and nodded realizing she had to accept what was coming for his sake.

She exhaled sharply and nodded down at the boy before her.

"Th-that's okay." She lied, her heart breaking slowly. Stiles nodded and swallowed painfully, it was hard for him to catch his breath. Lydia whipped her eyes aimlessly and smiled sweetly down at him. It wasn't genuine, but she needed to reassure him that everything was okay; and it was going to stay that way.

_Calm and collected._She tried to convince herself before she changed her sitting position and sat with her bum on the cold concrete ground, her legs bent right under her. She nudged her knees and thighs under Stiles head and shoulders so that his upper body now lay in her lap more comfortably.

It killed her to admit it, but there wasn't anything else she could do now but comfort him. Lydia looked down at the boy, and swallowed. She grabbed his hand tightly and ran her fingers gently and soothingly through his thick hair.

Lydia tried not to feel, she tried to make herself numb. Because she knew that if she did, it would only be more painful than it already was. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Stiles deserved much more than her holding in her emotions.

Stiles just looked up her in dreadful peace. She just couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye anymore, there was a knot in her stomach that made her whole body feel uneasy, imbalanced, and staring down at him only made her feel worse.

_Imagine how he feels._

Lydia took a deep breath then met him in the eye. His irises were filled with a mixture of pain, regret, _longing_. She fought to keep back a sob, and sniffed once more.

Tears now stained her red cheeks as she swallowed once more. "I-I've always loved you." He said so faintly, and clearly she barely heard him. His lips remained parted, trying to grasp in as much air as he could. But it had made little to no affect. "F-from the first day I l-laid eyes on you Lydia Martin."

Lydia nodded, with pitty, and regret. "I-I know." She admitted dryly.

"Do you still love me?" She asked quietly, a pained expression on her face. Stiles nodded. "H-how could I n-not?" He made an attempt to chuckle, but it only turned into a violent cough.

A small smile erupted on her face and she nodded, a few tears fell down her face in the process.

"Good, cause I-I think I might love you back." She admitted cautiously. At that point Stiles lips formed a tiny but noticeable smile, then after a moment he thought maybe the blood-loss had finally gotten to his brain and he was imagining things.

He waited to for air to come, but it was reaching his lungs at a much slower pace now. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, having a hard time forming his words as his eyelids drooped lower and lower until they were almost close.

Panic began to set on Lydia as she realized what was happening. "Stiles please." She begged shaking him gently. "Stay with me." She urged desperately.

"Kiss me." Escaped from his mouth, his breathing began become horribly labored. Lydia let out a strangled sob in disbelieve but nodded.

As she leaned down, Stiles caught enough strength to look up at her one more time, and quickly soaked in her features; her rosy lips, her strawberry blond curls, her captivating brown eyes.

But as she inched forward, the shadows she was casting made his eyes rest and peacefully come to a close.

He drew one more shaky breath before he felt her soft lips against his, passionately. It only lasted a few seconds, and that was all it took.

As Lydia retreaded, she felt his tight, contrasted muscles relax in her lap, his hand fell open on the ground at his side.

And he was gone.

_Spin me 'round, again_

_And rub my eyes_

_This can't be happening_

_When busy streets amass_

_People would stop to hold_

_Their hands_

_Heavy_

...

**This was originally just a one-shot I wrote for the hell of it, but now it's turned into a four-part story. I watched the Comic-Con trailer for Teen Wolf and went completely crazy when I saw the kiss between Stiles and Lydia! Ah! Anyway, hope you liked! (The lyrics used in this are from an amazing song called Hide & Seek by Imogen Heap, which I do not own. I also don't own Teen Wolf.)**

**Leave a small little review so I can see what you guys thought of this!**

**-C**


	2. The Lightning Strike

**The Lightning Strike**

_What if the storm ends?_

_And I don't see you_

_As you are now,_

_Never again_

Four figures stood before Lydia, their long shadows casting on the ground behind them looking down at the young girl's lap in horror.

They tried hard trying to process the inevitable through their minds.

Lydia just sat there, unmoving. The same way she had been for the last few hours, running her fingers gently through his hair. Her face was flushed a pink tint from the crying, her cheeks stained with dry tears, her eyes blood-shot red from the agony.

Lydia didn't acknowledge their presence, she didn't bother to knowing that if she turned her head up, she'd only see the pained and confused expression's on their faces.

She had lost, and she had gained. But she swore she'd never do anything to put herself in that position again—yet there she was.

She didn't want to move, she didn't want to face them. All she felt like she needed to do was sit there, and absorb it all.

And that's what she did.

Lydia just sat there, taking in the sight of the broken figure before her. She knew they were all desperately looking down at the ruins of the boy who once was, unable to process what they were seeing, through their minds.

And she was right.

Scott tried to stand tall, but made no attempt at hiding his emotions. Tears fell down his face as he looked down at his best friend, cold and lifeless on the ground. Disbelieve and denial ran through his body quicker than anything he's ever felt before.

Alison clung on to him in horror, creating an unspoken support system between them, which he gratefully accepted without hesitation.

Lydia didn't have to tell them anything, as soon as Scott walked through the door the scent of death lingered in the air, and the atmosphere changed so drastically, so sudden, it threw him off for a moment.

And as he turned the corner his eyes fell on the two bodies, and he knew. In an instant, his best friend—his brother, was gone.

Derek looked sternly down at the ground before him unable to say anything more, though he knew they needed to get out of there soon, and deliver what remained of Stiles to his father.

To Derek sure, Stiles was the annoying one out them all, but he was also the smartest, the most loyal. He stood up for his friends, even when the enemy had the advantage, and he had to admit he respected that.

He was shocked, that's what he was. He was in a constant debate with his mind about what he was seeing—whether it was real or not. But he knew he was only fooling himself; of course it was real.

Lydia still remained on the ground, Stiles propped up in her lap. Her tears felt endless, her efforts wasted. She was still slowly and soothingly running her shaky fingers through his hair, not daring to stop anytime soon in fear that if she stopped, if she stood up and walked away, everything would be too real.

To the rest of them, she seemed as if she was trapped in some crazy trance, her eyes barely moved, barely blinked. The only movement she was making was from her body, terribly shaking.

She had that power—whatever it was—she didn't even know, but it had the worst timing. It came to her when she didn't want it, when she didn't need it. A couple hours ago, she was desperate for it to come—to reveal itself, to help her somehow—anyhow. She didn't even know how it worked, or if it would even help at all—but she knew she needed it no matter what.

And it failed her. It didn't come. It stayed locked away somewhere inside her. And that's what killed her the most. Knowing that somehow she would've been able to help him—take away his pain—to save him—whatever; and she couldn't.

She didn't.

The room fell eerie silnet, until an unexpected cry erupted from Scott's mouth as he knelt down beside them both; facing the cruel reality. He still didn't want to believe it, even though everything else was telling him differently. He really didn't.

_The world just became dimmer._

"Oh god—" He sobbed quietly to himself before resting a hand on his best friends chest in attempt to take anyway any pain that had been left behind, and when he didn't find any, he removed his hand and used it to cradle his head in despair.

Alison approached the three, she now stood behind Scott, placing a hand on his shoulder from behind without saying a word. She looked down at the boy in silence. She _knew_ this game was dangerous, but now she understood how dangerous.

_This could've easily been Lydia, or Scott—any of us_. She thought.

The brunette now realized why her father went through such extreme efforts to keep her out of this world. It wasn't safe, it never was.

It never will be.

Isaac, who stood alongside Derek, held the same expression as the Alpha. They both stared in complete confusion; the last thing they expected to see when they entered the basement was far off from what they were facing. They could never imagine anything so permanent, so _human._

_Death_. Death was kind of a joke among the teenagers, with every problem, every obstacle they encountered, they've managed to avoid it, up to the point where they were careless; especially the wolves.

And right then, looking down at what was left of Stiles, of their _own_, they never felt so mortal, so human.

…

How they managed to leave that basement, they never truly knew. But it all came suddenly to Scott who had the idea.

"We have to get him to Dr. Deaton—" "—Scott, there's nothing he can d—" Derek cut him off quickly. "—Stop, Alright?! Just stop, there has to be something he can do—I can't jus—we can't just do _nothing_, Derek." Scott snapped staring the Alpha straight in the eyes. Complete defense ran through him.

Derek sighed at the young boy, he was optimistic about everything, but now it was finally getting to him. "Scott, there's nothing supernatural about his death, he was shot with a human weapon." Derek tried to reason softly.

Anger wasn't the answer, not there.

"Well, I'm saying that there _can_ be something supernatural, if we just take him to Dr. Deaton—" Scott continued to explain, but the Alpha shook his head.

"—There's _nothing_ he can do." Derek explained once more, dread filled his voice. He quietly wished that he was lying, but the words he spoke couldn't be more truer.

"I'm done discussing this." Scott mumbled murderously. Nothing was getting in the way of him possibly helping Stiles.

Not even Derek Hale.

…

"I tried explaining to him, but he won't listen," Derek mumbled lowly to Dr. Deaton. "maybe you'll have better luck."

Dr. Deaton slowly nodded, he was clearly heart-broken, not because of Stiles' death, but what actions Scott made to help him. He walked back into the examination room where everyone was currently in after turning the sign on the door to closed, Derek in suit.

He stared at the small crowd before him, observing everyone rather quickly before clearing his throat, his eyes set on the body that lay on his table for a short moment in time, in disbelieve, before gazing back up at everyone with utter dread in his eyes. "I'm afraid," He began slowly, giving them a chance to hear it properly.

"that there is nothing…" He suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, feeling something rather odd. Energy, cold, vibrant energy. His eyes quickly darted in the direction it was coming from—it was unusual—strange even. He's only felt it once before in his life.

"_Virtus._" He mumbled out of nowhere, quickly setting his eyes on the short young girl with wild strawberry blond hair.

Lydia froze, snapping out of her trace immediately. This was the only time she had snapped back to normal, she was lucid. Lydia stared back at the doctor with her giant, stormy, doe eyes in realization. Everyone else turned to stare at them in complete confusion, but Lydia had no trouble understanding what he was saying.

_Power._

_What if the storm ends?_

_And leaves us nothing_

_Except a memory_

_A distant echo_

…

**Well as you see I decided to continue with, this will now be a four-part story! What do you think will happen? Hope you enjoyed this and leave a small little review to let me know if I should continue… I'm a little hesitant because I originally just wanted to write a One-shot to get over my writer block... haha anyway leave a review! Love ya guys.**

**(Song lyrics used is from a song called **_**The Lightning Strike**_**, by Snow Patrol, It's amazing! And not mine, I take no credit.)**

**-C**


	3. People, Help the People

**People, Help the People**

_God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts_

_Guess he kissed the girls and made them cry_

_Those Hard-faced Queens of misadventure_

_God Knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken loves_

_Fiery thrones of muted angles_

_Giving love but getting nothing back_

"That's it, power…" Deaton said simply, in realization. Everyone shot him a strange glace; they had no idea what he was talking about. Everything, but Lydia that is; she had a pretty good guess at what he saying.

"M-my power?" She asked faintly, hoping that he knew something about her she didn't; something that could help Stiles.

Dr. Deaton shook his head. "Yes and no… we aren't sure what you are exactly Lydia, but it got me thinking." He paced around the room as it was all coming back to him.

Everyone watched him intently. "There's this old legend that states; one who runs with wolves finds power within." He spoke rather quickly trying to get to the point. The faster he gets this out, the better for Stiles.

"Okay… what does that mean?" Scotts asked in confusion.

"It means that, a human, such as Stiles, who hangs around a pack of werewolf's, subconsciously absorbs their strength without realizing it. Now he can't harvest this power like you can, but it gives him an advantage in events such as this."

"You mean, he's stronger than a human?" Isaac spoke up trying to piece everything together. Deaton nodded. "Not by much, but just enough. Come on—we gotta get him to the hospital." He added quickly.

As everyone headed to the car Dr. Deaton stayed back and when through once of his locked cabinets looking for something much needed.

"Did you get what he said? 'Cause I'm lost." Scott admitted scratching the back of his head with a dumb folded look on his face. Derek sighed in annoyance. "Just get in the car Scott." He growled.

Lydia followed in suit behind Alison, but she couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong; as if something was lurking behind her back. Something was drawing her back, she just didn't know what.

Alison noticed the look on her best friends face and spoke up. "You okay?" She asked lowly, trying not to bring that much attention to the topic. Lydia seemed out of it to her, but she nodded without much thought. "Yeah, I'm fine." She reassured her.

Alison wasn't stupid; she could tell the strawberry blond wasn't okay. There were a few bruises on her arms and face, her hair was a tangled mess, and she was shaking. Lydia had gone through a lot in her life, but this; watching Stiles die in her arms was probably the worst. She didn't know if she'd ever recover from something like that.

…

Scott ran furiously through the hospital in front of the pack was in search of his mother, right then they needed someone with the knowledge of the supernatural, they needed Melissa McCall.

As soon as he spotted her he shouted. "Mom!" Scott pushed against the people walking through the hallway and made his way over to her. Melissa turned around in confusion.

"Scott? What are you—?" Scott stood there, with a lost expression on his face. It was like he couldn't remember how to form words anymore. He just stood there, panicking.

Nothing happened, until Melissa saw the gang walked up behind her son, faces dropped, and hardened in disbelieve. She frowned upon them not knowing what was wrong—or why no one was saying anything. Then she saw Stiles lifeless body in Derek's arms and her expression dropped.

"Oh my god." She let out in utter shock. "Som-someone get me a gurney!" She nearly screamed as she ran to examine the boy. "H-how long has he been down?! W-What happened?!" She cried as one of her fellow nurses brought over a gurney and helped Derek place him on top of it. She noticed his shirt drenched in dark red blood, front and back.

_Not good._

Melissa, pushing the stretcher, rushed into the nearest trauma room and began her work. Everyone followed quietly behind, they didn't answer, they didn't speak, they barely breathed.

"I'm not getting a heart-beat—w-why am I not getting a heartbeat!? …Scott!?" His mother yelled in panic. But her son remained silent; all he did was look up into his mother's eyes. She's never seen him look so lost.

There was a stillness in the room for a few moments before anyone spoke up.

"He's dead." Lydia mumbled faintly. Her eyes began to water uncontrollably. Melissa dropped the gaze on her son and set it on the boy on the gurney before her. Her heart sank into her stomach. It seemed as what Lydia was saying, was true. Stiles lay, unmoving, white as a sheet, no heartbeat—not breathing.

Melissa froze; not knowing what to do next.

Suddenly the door swung open and Dr. Deaton paced in. "Okay, here's what you need to do." He looked straight at Scott's mother without hesitation. The gang stepped aside so that Deaton could walk through easily in the small room.

"M-me, you talking to me?" Melissa clarified, she was a little confused. "Yes," The vet exhaled. "I need you to put this in an IV." He took the vital from his hands and handed it to her. "W-what is this? I can't just put anything into—"

"It's a Chervil powder herb, resurrection herb for the supernatural." He explained, but Melissa was only more confused than ever. "But Stiles is human… unless there's something you're not telling me." Deaton sighed. "Yes, Stiles is human—it's complicated, but trust me." He tried to reassure her.

Melissa eyes her son for a minute in hesitation. "He knows what he's doing mom." His mother nodded and began to set up an IV for the herb. "O-okay, what now?"

"Now, everyone needs to get out." The vet said quickly. The pack began to protest, all but Lydia who seemed rather quiet amongst the rest. Her eyes never left Stiles' limp body.

"What—?" Scott began but the Druid cut him off. "—you don't want to see this." "Maybe I do—W-we can't just leave—"

"—Trust me Scott. You don't want to be here." He repeated calmly staring him down.

"Deaton's right Scott, we should go outside." Derek spoke in a low calm voice. Isaac was the first one to open the door and walk out, followed by Derek. They stood in the frame of the door waiting for the others. But Alison wouldn't leave without Scott, and Lydia didn't seem to get the message at all.

Scott sensed the urgency in his boss's voice, and heard his heart beat calmly through his chest. He wasn't lying. "Fine."

Scott slowly backed away, taking one last glance at Stiles. Alison reached for his arm and helped him out the door, now, only Lydia remained. But she didn't move. It seemed as if she didn't see everyone exit out the door, or didn't hear what Deaton had said at all.

She stood there in silence, arms crossed vulnerably.

"Lydia…" Melissa exhaled in exhaustion, she noticed the young girls eyes set on Stiles in front of her.

It was as if she was trapped in some sort of gaze—_denial._

Deaton ignored this and continued on, they were running out of time. "You need to listen to me right now alright?" He spoke clearly to Scott's mother. Melissa nodded and tried focus on his words, but she couldn't believe this was happening, tears formed in the mother's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

She couldn't help thinking that this could've easily been Scott.

"When the doctors come and you try to revive him, double the amount of the epinephrine limit—" "W-what? That's crazy; if I push more than six of Epi it'll kill him!" She exclaimed.

"No it won't, he's much stronger. He can take it."

Ms. McCall took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. This was beyond crazy but it was what needed to be done. "His body will need the extra adrenaline Melissa, trust me."

"Okay, okay." She exhaled sharply as she pressed the crash cart button. "But will you just get Lydia outta here!? She doesn't need to see this."

Deaton nodded, and just as they were about to leave the door burst open and a team of doctors rushed in. He took the strawberry blond haired girl by the arm and dragged her out the door in a rush.

…

"This is stupid, and unnecessary." Lydia commented as she sat down on one of the examination beds, Alison by her side. "Lydia, you've been missing for days, and you think a medical checkup is unnecessary?" The brunette asked.

Lydia swallowed and sighed in annoyance. "Yes, I'm _fine_."

"Okay! –you've got to stop saying that! One look at you and anyone could tell you're not fine!" Alison let out a little sternly. Lydia tried to ignore her, what she was saying was defiantly true but she refused to listen. She hated feeling weak, and powerless. This was _not_ her.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, wait for me?" The brunette asked. Lydia nodded without saying anything.

Just then a nurse walked in with her charts. "Good news, you're all clear. I'd just take it easy for a while—gotta let all those bruises heal nicely." She announced.

"You're free to go."

"Finally." Lydia exhaled as she stood up, then she realized she still had to wait for her best friend and sat back down.

She became fully aware that she was now alone, and didn't have to put an effort to keep up her act. Pretending she was okay was hard work, even for someone like Lydia.

She sat there for a good four minutes before the silence got to her. At first, it only began with her walking around out of boredom in the small observation room, but slowly, after a few minutes the walking turned into pacing, and the silence and stillness of everything got to her.

Slowly and without much warming, the memories of that day rushed back to her. She tried to push them back, she tried to stop them, but it was no use.

Her breathing became labored as she began to hyperventilate. All the memories from back down there were getting to her. _Stop it, stop it!_ She screamed at herself in attempt to calm down.

It didn't work very well cause the next thing she knew, her hands were shaking.

Lydia tried to take in deep breathes, but it wasn't working. Images of their captors threatening them, beating them, taking the gun out, Stiles on the ground all flooded her mind.

Blood.

_Breathe Lydia, breathe._

But it was too much, Alison shouldn't have left her alone,_ they_ shouldn't have left her alone—she wasn't ready for that.

The gaping hole of silence Alison left was eating her alive. Lydia let out these long gasp's of breath as she clung on the side of the bed. Tears fell down her exhausted face.

_Stop._

"_Lydia _stop." A familiar voice spoke; there was uneasiness to the pained voice. She quickly realized she wasn't alone anymore.

Lydia froze where she was standing, but rose her head up in shock. In that moment she could hear the beat of her own heart drumming against the back of her ears; shaking her very core. She struggled to hold on to the bed.

_She knew that voice._

After taking a few breathes of much needed air, she shakily turned around to where it came from.

As her eyes set on the figure in front of her, she quickly ran out of air, and took in another set of gasps of breathe.

The boy stood behind her, he looked perfectly fine—expect for the pained expression that seemed to be molded into his face. He wasn't hurt, or dying, or dead… he was standing before her.

Completely fine.

"St-Stiles." Lydia managed out. Her eyes quickly widened and went all crazy like. What she was seeing couldn't possibly be real.

His face dropped in realization. "Y-you can see me?!" He nearly shouted in disbelieve.

Lydia nodded. _That's it. I'm crazy—I've officially gone mad. _"Y-you're not real… you can't b-be real." She decided out loud. She was trying to convince herself she wasn't seeing him, more than anything else.

Stiles quickly approached her in his fashionably matter. But she backed away with caution and put her hands in front of her as a signal for him not to come any closer.

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks, the small smile on his face faded. He quickly came a realization the Lydia thought he was a hallucination or something of that sort.

That he wasn't real.

"N-no," He exhaled in almost frustration. "Lydia, it's me… Stiles!" He tried to reason with her using extreme hand motions that only seemed to alarm her more.

The young girl shook her head in denial. "No." She swallowed. "This is just—just some sort of weird post traumatic stress disorder thing—that's what it is!" She exclaimed taking in a death breathe. She lowered her arms and then continued pacing around the room like a lunatic.

"Y-you know I read something like this before, yeah. Some people who go experience traumatic events often gets so stressed out they start seeing things—people!—" She tried to find a scientific explanation for what stood in front of her.

_I'm losing it._

"You're not losing it Lydia." Stiles exhaled. She snapped her head towards him and stared him down. "How'd you do that?"

Stiles looked taken back. "That…" He seemed to be taken by surprise. "I uh—I just do… that." He struggled out, he was being his normal Stiles self. Lydia glared at him in suspicion. "You have no idea." She said in a slightly amused tone.

"I have no idea." Stiles admitted, giving up.

If it weren't for the situation Lydia would've rolled her eyes in annoyance at the boy.

For a minute she stopped and collected herself. Lydia contemplated if what she was seeing could be true—but with her strange supernatural ties and all, it was hard to clarify.

"Okay, let's say I'm _not_ crazy," She tried to reason. "what are you exactly?" She asked in a whisper.

Stiles stood before her and slightly shrugged, he thought about it for moment, deciding what he should tell her, and how to make it not sound ridiculous. He scratched the back of his head.

"Well, I'm not dead…" He began. "But, I'm kinda not… alive either…" He guessed uncertainly.

Lydia looked at him in disbelieve. Even as—well, whatever he was, he was still clueless. One thing certainly didn't change about him.

"Okay, so you have no idea what you are?"

Stiles dropped his hand and tired to reason with her once more. "Yes Lydia that's right! I don't, okay? But that's not my fault!" He shot back defensively.

Lydia stared back up at him.

Stiles half-heartedly sighed. "I jus—I woke up like this... and now… here I am…" He let out slowly as if he was trying to piece it together.

"Do you—uh, remember what happened—""—Yeah." He said clearly, not meeting her eyes, he looked down at the ground. "Kinda of—not really—I mean, I know I got shot and all… but, how—how am I still …alive?" Lydia opened her mouth to say something but Stiles was lost in the choice of his words that he just continued on.

"Actually I don't know if _alive _is the appropriate word—more like… in-between? Ugh… see? I don't even know—" He said in frustration.

Lydia watched him struggle, she wanted to comfort him somehow but she feared that if she opened her mouth to say something, it would only hurt him.

Stiles gave in and looked down at the girl. "I-I think… I think you can see me because of whatever you are… maybe you connect with the dead? I mean you always find dead bodies and…" Stiles began to trail on, but Lydia was lost in her thoughts.

What he was saying did seem very plausible—she just didn't know what to believe anymore.

"Lydia? …hey you okay?" Another voice entered the room. Lydia quickly spun around and came face to face with her best friend. She nodded and flashed her a fake smile after meeting Stiles in the eyes to see if he was still there.

"hum? I'm fine. Let's go."

…

Back in the waiting room the Derek and Isaac waited anxiously on any news of Stiles, Melissa had said that when she could she would update them. But so far they hadn't even left the trauma room; which wasn't a good sign.

As the girls walked in Alison quickly took note that Scott was missing. "Where's Scott?" She asked. Derek gave a nod in the opposite direction, and the brunette turned around and saw her ex-boyfriend on the phone.

"He's calling Stiles's father." Isaac explained. Alison gave Scott a reassuring glance from across the room and then sat down on one of the open chairs. She knew this was something he needed to do on his own.

Scott leaned against the hallway wall holding the phone to his ear as it continued to ring. So far Sheriff Stilinski wasn't answering.

_Come on, come on. _Scott pleaded with the phone, he couldn't let him find out about his son some other way—he had to do it.

Suddenly, just as he was about to hang up, the call was picked up and the Sheriff's voice broke through the silence. "Er, Scott? That you?" He said after noticing the caller ID.

"Ye-yes—we, uh, we found them." He said without any hesitation.

The Sheriff went quiet for a few moments before he spoke once more. "You found them? Are they okay—i-is Stiles there? –put him on the phone." He demanded happily.

Scott swallowed uncomfortably. "Stiles," The word felt like poison to his mouth. "uh—St—he can't um, can't come to the phone right now." He said slowly.

"Okay…? Well where are you guys?" Stiles's father asked in slight confusion.

"W-we're at the hospital." Scott revealed. He could hear the Sheriff exhaled in dread. He was hoping for some better news.

"Is Stiles… is my boy okay?" He asked.

"I-I'm not sure" Scott said. "but you should get down here."

…

"Melissa, he's been down for too long." One of the doctors stated in defeat. But the nurse continued on with compressions.

"No, we can't stop. Push another round of Epi." She said as she pressed her hands against Stiles' chest.

She noticed most of the doctors have backed away now, just staring at her. Even the intern who was pumping air into him via airway tube stopped. Melissa took a deep breath and glared at her.

"What are you doing? Keep going!" She snapped. The scared intern quickly obeyed and continued on, sending even breaths of air through the tube that ran down his throat.

This _had_ to work, Dr. Deaton said it would. He said to trust him.

One of the doctors who hadn't given up and was still working on the young boy, reached for the defibrillator paddles. She yelled at the nearest nurse to charge them to 360 and yelled "Clear!" as she pressed the metal paddles to his chest.

Melissa took her hands off and stopped the compressions, the intern let go of the pump for a brief moment and they watched as Stiles' upper body spring upward as the shock of electricity ran through his body.

"Still nothing." The doctor exhaled in disappointment. That was eighth time they charged him in the last twenty minutes.

"Dr. Allen charge again." Melissa demanded. She wasn't about to lose Stiles—she wasn't going down without a fight.

The doctor looked Melissa in the eye for a short second before she gave her a quick nod.

As Dr. Allen got the paddles fired again, Melissa continued her compressions against Stiles' chest. She looked down at the boy and tears almost stung in her eye, but she was trained to stay calm in situations like these—even when it was someone she knew.

"Come on Stiles! Come on!" She shouted angrily at him. Of all the times she wished she was rid of him; from breaking into the house, and getting Scott in trouble. Stiles was a lot of things, but he was also like another son to her, she couldn't give up on him.

"Alright, Cathy push another round of Epi." Melissa said to the nurse in charge of fluids.

"Another round, Nurse McCall that'll k—" "—Just do it!" Melissa barked in frustration.

Dr. Allen exchanged a glace between the nurses but continued on. "Charge to 390, and… clear!" She struck Stiles once more, but with each minute even she began to lose hope for the boy.

The room stood still for a long moment; all eyes were glued to the heart monitor in to the left side above Stiles head. The red flat line jumped once, from the shock, then dropped back and remained constant.

Melissa's heart sank to her stomach. "Please." She mumbled faintly as she closed her eyes in dread for a moment.

_Beep_

She opened her eyes in disbelieve, they darted to the monitor and for a moment she thought she was imagining it.

_Beep_

But there it was again. She watched as the line changed colors and shoot upward—it wasn't a steady healthy beat—it was low… but it was there. She exhaled deeply in relief, not noticing that she was holding her breath before.

"We're back in sinus!" Dr. Allen shouted with a smile.

"Alright we gotta get this kid into the OR!"

…

Scott walked unsteadily walked back to the waiting area, and sat down next to the only person he knew could help calm him down in the moment; Alison.

Lydia, who stood across from them couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously as she watched them interact. They knew each other so well, that words weren't necessary.

She longed something like that.

Scott exhaled deeply and tired to clear his head. But with each minute that passed he was getting more and more anxious. Wave of emotions ran through him—memories, childhood memories with Stiles crept from the back of his mind subconsciously.

He saw them racing their bikes down the street, he saw them at the local sports shop, pilling together their money so they could buy their first lacrosse stick—these memories were once filled with joy, but now only pain seemed to fill the gaps in-between.

He felt another hand on his and suddenly he was pulled back in reality. He looked down at his tightened grip around the arm rest, he was squeezing the metal to the point it was being crushed under the enormous power of his hand.

Alison realized this and that is why she placed her hand gently on top of his. She brought him back down to earth.

Scott took a breath and tired to clear his mind once more—but it was too much—all of this was too overwhelming for him. He hadn't had time to process everything before—he was too busy being to the leader, and taking charge. But now, that everything was still, he had time to think.

To _really_ think about what happened.

He could hear his heart begin to speed, maybe thinking wasn't the best thing to do right now.

Without warning he quickly stood up and walked away—he knew the tears were coming and he didn't want everyone to see him like that anymore. He felt it made him weak, vulnerable.

And that was something he didn't want the rest of the pack to see.

Scott paced down the hall and stopped to breathe after a few seconds. He was finally alone to express however he felt—but was it what he really wanted?

Lydia watched in worry as Scott walked away, she could tell he was holding in tears. In that moment she couldn't help but glance to her right, where Stiles was standing watching what was unfolding in front of him. She still couldn't decide if he was real or not, but there was no denying the look on his face made her heart sink deeper into the pits of her stomach.

They all watched as Alison left right after him.

"This is all my fault." Stiles admitted without much emotion to his voice. Lydia swallowed when she heard those words. They were a lie—she knew it—even he did. But that didn't mean Stiles didn't feel responsible.

Her stomach turned in a nasty way as she heard him, but she chose to ignore his comment. It was easier that way—he was probably just some illusion her mad mind came up with anyway.

Stiles sighed and walked across the room to sit in the empty chair beside Lydia. He sat there for a moment in deep thought, contemplating whether he should say something or not.

After a while he decided he should, just in case he's never get the chance to later. "D-do you remember it? How it happened?" He clarified.

Lydia took a second but she gave him a soft nod.

"Me too." He said uneasily as he took his eyes off her and stared down the hall to where Scott and Alison had disappeared to.

A flash flew across is eyes, and suddenly, he was back in that basement again.

_The pair stood facing their captor in a demeaning silence. Stiles stood in front of Lydia, one arm stretched outwards in front of her stomach as a form of protection. It wasn't much, but it was something._

"_I'm not going to repeat myself, where is Derek's pack?" The man said sternly, he was pointing the gun straight at Stiles._

_Stiles swallowed and tried to quickly come up with some witty way of lying to him, but all he could come up was with "I don't know." Which seemed to have gotten him nowhere, but further into this bad predicament. _

_The man then turned his focus on the short strawberry blond haired girl Stiles was trying so hard to protect, his gun followed._

_This only enraged him as he saw the man threaten her with the gun. Lydia took quick short breaths as she tightened the grip on Stiles shirt from behind, he could feel her begin to tremble in fear._

"_Maybe she can tell me, she seems awful quiet—you know what they say—the quiet ones know everything." The man smiled wickedly._

_This pissed Stiles off. Not only was he pointing the gun at Lydia, but the man managed to smile while doing it._

"_Hey, hey! That is the girl I love, don't you dare point a gun at her!" He lashed out, now stepping in front of her completely. Lydia quickly moved to his left side—still grabbing hold of his shirt for dear life._

_The gun was back at him now. _

_Stiles swallowed nervously again and looked at the metal weapon that could end his life at any moment. "So, someone's getting sly here aren't they?" The man chuckled._

"_Maybe this will get something out of her." He said eerily._

_A shot rang out and Stiles braced himself, Lydia closed her eyes let out a small shriek as yanked his shirt in horror._

_But nothing happened. Stiles didn't feel any pain like he expected to—was he hit? He couldn't tell. Only when he peeled his eyes open and saw the gun was pointed at the ceiling above them he came to the realization that he wasn't._

_A warning shot._

_He let out a breath of in utter relief, but it only last for a moment before he saw that the man had moved back to Lydia, now with a murderous gaze upon his face. He was tired of not getting any answers._

"_Where are they!?" He hollered in complete frustration. Lydia flinched under the weight of the threat, but said nothing._

"_Stop! Alright?! Can't you see threatening her won't—" Stiles interjected once more as he stepped into the frame of the gun. But he never finished his sentence. _

_The man had enough of him, and another shot rang out._

"_NO!" Lydia shrieked._

_Stiles stood there for a moment for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes wide in utter shock. His arm subconsciously rose to the place he was hit, blood seeped through his fingers. There was no pain—that came later when he dropped to the floor and the shock wore off._

_Right then, there was only silence. _

_He could hear his heart beating violently against this chest. He could hear his breath on the back of his throat._

_He looked straight into the eyes of his captor, letting the panic sink in as he struggled to catch his breath. The man looked just about as shocked as he was, and after a moment he began to back away until he was out of Stiles' view._

_That was when he lost control of his balance. It didn't even feel like a fall, not to him—he felt lighter—almost like he was floating. And before he knew it; he was staring up that the ceiling._

…

It was hours later when they finally had gotten any official word on Stiles. They had only seen him once since they were forced to leave, but it was for a brief moment when they rolled him out of the trauma room. And even then, they couldn't see much due to the crowd of doctors that surrounded him as they rushed to their destination.

But that was hours ago.

The gang remained in the waiting room, holding on to any strand of hope they still had left in their tried and broken bodies. Only the constant ticking on the nearby clock seemed to bother them—especially the wolves, who heard it ten times as clearer and louder –a constant reminder of the time that had passed.

Deaton was the only one who seemed to disappear after the whole ordeal. Once he got Lydia and himself out the door of the trauma room, he said a few low words to Scott before making his exit.

It was strange.

But no one questioned the knowledgeable druid. In fact, they hadn't really felt his absence.

Lydia felt a form of absence. It wasn't created when Dr. Deaton had left—it had created when she turned to where she last saw Stiles sitting and found him gone.

She missed whatever he was. For a moment she panicked when she no longer saw the tortured boy before her, but then relief ran through her in realization that maybe she just stopped envisioning him.

But there was still a part of her that felt the urgency—that need to see him once more and know he was okay.

She tried to relax and tell herself that she was just seeing things, and that it was mostly likely a form of post traumatic stress more than anything. But even then, she could calm down.

She was constantly reminded of why they where there. Stiles died—he did. Right in her arms.

And nothing anybody could ever do, could change that.

It was Melissa who walked around the corner first, followed by a tall woman who wore a lab coat and a clipboard in her arms.

As they approached the strange group, Scott and the Sherriff were the ones to stand up first. Knowing that torturing the wait was finally over. For once in his life Scott couldn't read the expression on his mothers face, it was blank.

"How is he?" Scott asked without hesitation, he turned to his mother who made a gesture to the doctor standing next to her.

Dr. Allen gave them a small meaningless smile as she introduced herself. "Are you Mr. Stilinski?" She asked Stiles's father though she could already tell by the look of despair and disbelieve expressions fixed on his face.

He nodded slowly. "Sherriff Stilinski." He corrected halfheartedly as he shook her hand. "H-how's my son?" He asked hesitantly. Part of him desperately wanted to know the condition of his son, but the other half just wanted to shut down and remain in the dark."

Dr. Allen swallowed and took a look around, everyone was gathered to hear the fate of one of their own. The doctor felt a little uncomfortable in the presence of such anxious teenagers, that she wondered how the Sherriff was taking this.

The news wasn't good. And she just didn't want to break that out right there in front of everyone.

Moments of silence passed by and the Sherriff began to look impatient as if the weight of the question that hung in the air was slowly eating him alive. He needed to know. "Dr. Allen, I really don't want to ask you again." He said faintly. It wasn't a threat, it was a plead.

The doctor nodded, then began. "As you know your son has sustained a serious life threatening injury, when he was brought in Melissa informed me that he was neither breathing or had a pluse. We honestly don't know how he survived after being down that long." She said. Scott shared a quick glace with his mother.

"O-Okay? So what are you telling me exactly?" He asked in confusion.

"During surgery I removed the bullet and managed to repair the part of his lung that collapsed when he was –well when he was essentially shot…" Dr. Allen swallowed, the hard part was coming.

"Unfortunately, treating the gunshot wound wasn't the only major issue… you see for a person to go without oxygen for that long—" She trailed off, shaking her head.

The gang hung onto her every word as if it were their last breath.

"He isn't responding to any stimuli." Dr. Allen revealed, to her the term was familiar, but from the looks everyone was giving her she could tell they had no clue what that meant.

All but one person. Dr. Allen noticed the shorter strawberry blond girl with stormy green eyes; she looked panicked—horror stricken as if she was acquainted with the term.

"What do you mean he's not responding?" Stiles's father demanded.

Dr. Allen swallowed. "Stiles slipped into a coma while in surgery."

The Sherriff breathed calmly in and out for a few moments, but everyone could tell the news hit him hard. He didn't meet the doctor in the eye—he didn't even look at her as he took a few moments to process what he had just been told.

Stiles's father never liked hospitals—this wasn't mainly because of what happened with his wife—how it tore apart his family, but because in his time serving this town as Sherriff, he had seen many people enter the doors of these places and never come out; countless bodies—survivors—victims, who all lived through the horror and the trauma only to die when being saved.

Just like his son, just like Stiles.

"C-can I see him?" He asked, his fingers trembling from the shock.

Dr. Allen gave him a nod. "Of course."

…

The trip to the ICU felt like the longest walk Lydia ever took in her life—so much anticipation—so much anxiety all warped up in the moments it took to get there. All of them were trapped in their various state of mind as they followed the Doctor—only Lydia really felt the utter length of the walk.

With each step they took, with each breath they drew, they came closer to the reason they were all there.

They let Sherriff Stilinski go in alone first, deciding it only right to let him have a few moments with his son before he was crowded by a group of teenagers. Melissa and Dr. Allen followed him quietly inside.

There was a window that attached to the room, but the blinds were drawn—Scott tried to focus his hearing from the inside of the closed door, but received no audio.

Silence.

Lydia tried to keep every inch of her tried and broken body to stay put, to stay where she was. She was afraid that any moment she would snap and lunge at the door in some pathetic form of anticipation. But she calmed down, and managed to restrain herself from doing what she wanted most in that moment.

Seconds turned into moments, moments turned into minutes and still nothing happened. They all stood gathered by the door in silence.

Scott was surprised some of them were still here, sure, he could understand Lydia and maybe even Alison, but Derek and Isaac? They never particularly liked Stiles that much; most of their interaction came with violent threats and annoyed expressions. Sure, they tolerated him, but they weren't as good of friends as the rest of them.

In a way Scott saw this as a sign of respect—it showed him their loyalty to one of their own.

What felt like a lifetime was only about ten minutes in reality before the door opened once more, and Dr. Allen walked out followed by Melissa. Scott's mother informed them they could go in now, but that they should stick to small numbers as to not overwhelm the Sherriff.

Scott quickly nodded in a silent agreement and his shot Lydia a glance. They seemed to communicate without words for a few moments before the green-eyed girl took a shaky breath and clung on the young wolf's arm as they walked inside together.

It wasn't as bad as she thought.

Lydia spent hours in that waiting room debating on how Stiles would look like using the small medical experience she had. This was nothing compared to what she had envisioned. She thought he'd look worse.

But honestly, he looked quite normal; peacefully asleep almost.

As the odd pair approached the best, they noticed his father by his bedside, looking as if he was reliving his worst nightmare all over again.

Stiles was just laying there, the only thing that seemed to set him apart from themselves was the color of his skin—it was shade lighter. _From the blood loss. _Lydia realized and the large bruise on his right cheek; a welcome gift from their captor. He was dressed in a hospital gown, and there was one of those scruffy light blue hospital blankets that went up to his waist, he had a couple IV's, one for a blood transfusion and the rest for fluids Lydia guessed, however there was a larger, thicker tube that seemed to snake out of the gown which was attached to a larger plastic bag that hung off the hospital bed, and he was attached to an EKG.

From that perspective, that was all she could see.

Lydia couldn't believe that only a few short hours ago, he was dead in her arms—it felt like days ago to the young woman. It was as if her eyes were playing tricks on her, if it weren't for all the hospital equipment, she would've thought he was just sleeping or something.

She took a breath and closed her eyes, trying soak everything in. And once she opened her eyes, she noticed another figure standing behind the Sherriff.

"Stiles." She exhaled faintly.

_God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence_

_Behind the tears, inside the lies_

_A thousand slowly dying sunsets_

_God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts_

_Guess the loneliness came knocking_

_No one needs to be alone_

_Singin'_

_People, help the people_

…

**So don't kill me! Next chapter will be here soon! **

**OMFG who saw that amazing stydia kiss in 3x11? Actually the question would be—who didn't see it?! It was so perfect! At first I was a little scared because in the promo/trailer you couldn't really tell what was going on, or why Lydia kissed him. I mean I had a felling she was doing it to "calm him down" and I was right, but then in the episode! Oh my god, in the episode it was beyond perfect! I—WE got so much out of that kiss! It was like HOLYS*** the feels and everything! The gazes on their faces and the whole afhsafsksf! It was so intense. Ah!**

**It was beyond my expectations and I was **_**very**_** pleased. Obviously they weren't going to be like "Oh, now you're my BF and GF and tell each other they loved each other" I knew it would be nothing of that sort so I didn't get my hopes crushed or anything, this is why I love Teen Wolf, these freaking moments that just take you by surprise!**

**(Wouldn't it be cooler if they never teased us about the kiss and just let it happen, all us Stydia shippers would be like "AHHHHHH!" And go crazy and it would be perfect!, would probably like crash Instagram and all tumblr with all our craziness) But that didn't happen and its okay, because the kiss was amazing! It was like they saw each other for the very first time—God I love them :) **

**Another thing. Oh my god. The ending of 3x11. Just ajhgdjhgkjgh I just love Jeff Davis for his amazing-ness. They all died. Did anyone get that?! **

**They **_**DIED**_**!**

**For their parents… sob* I was crying the entire time—and when Deaton told Lydia to go with Stiles—AH! It was like the icing on the cake—I only wished they shared a more longer meaningful glance when he got into the tub of death—but what we got was fine. **

**I think… only now that I think about it. Lydia **_**literally**_** killed Stiles (in a way). Wow. Only Teen Wolf can ever make me feel this way.**

**I swear.**

**Anyway, obviously I wrote this before we knew what Lydia was… so I kinda just left them all in the dark, and didn't mention anything about the whole banshee thing. ****Okay I'm gonna stop now, 'cause I wrote like a whole essay on the subject and I think you guys had enough of me.**

**Oh and just in case any of you were confused, i like mad esome stuff up in this chapter, like the extra "power" Stiles gets from the wolves and the reseurection herb. Those were my touchs im not sure if they are real lol.**

**So, leave a review! (with your thoughts on this or if you need somewhere to just freak out about what happened in 3x11. I answer back haha.) ****OH and the song is _People Help the People _by_ Birdy_! I don't own the song or Teen Wolf just snuck in a little disclaimer there hehe.**

**-C**


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